


Sarah

by starhugger



Category: Clockhand Children Universe - Fandom
Genre: Character Death, Clockhand Children, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 20:46:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16182881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starhugger/pseuds/starhugger
Summary: The only rogue I could bother with.





	Sarah

Sarah was one of the only friends I ever had.

As the prince, one of my main jobs was to stay in solitude to prevent being tainted by outsiders. And yet, I found myself with a friend anyways.

And she was a rogue.

I knew the council would have my head if they knew, but I couldn’t help myself from becoming acquainted to this young clockhand. She was one of the first to break free, not long after Aurora- they may have known each other, which made me admittedly shake in my boots.

Let me explain what she was like. She… reminded me of _Ian._ Which hurt to even think about given what happened to him- and who caused it. But from meeting her, I could tell she had a similar fire in her belly. She called herself what I used to refer to as “Lez bian”, because I didn’t know what the idea of lesbianism was yet. I never knew terms for one way or the other, since none of it really concerned me. It concerned _her,_ though, constantly talking about it with me despite me looking like a dog who was tricked into thinking a ball was thrown across the field for the entirety of it.

She clearly knew of other rogues, considering how she spoke of them. I realized rather quickly I could use her to turn in virtually every single one of their growing numbers. There was Aurora, there was her, there had been Ian. A Cassandra. A neutral named Tessa. Slews of others, some I even recognized by name.

But I stayed silent. See, Sarah was my friend, and despite my extremist and loyal views, I couldn’t turn her and her associates in. It was technically what I “should have done”, but… I couldn’t place it. I just couldn’t bring myself to let her die. I could never explain what feeling kept me from being honest about it all.

We bonded a bit over her only liking girls, and me only liking men. She told me that humans often looked down upon those who liked people of the same gender, which boggled my mind. In the clock, people were killed for two things- being disobedient, or not doing what they should be. Of course, a few other things could cause an untimely end, however, the idea that loving someone other than another person wasn’t allowed was laughable, to me.

I was never as passionate as her. But she didn’t believe that.

One day, she had me sit down and speak with her about “something different, this time.”

She looked at me for a long time- she had blazing, hot pink eyes that reminded me of Sully. She was a gear, after all. Which was unusual- most rogues were lower class because they suffered more. I had to respect the idea that someone as upper class as her rebelled anyways.

“Jesse, do you know who you are?” She asked me. I blinked, confused. “I am Jesse.”

“But who is Jesse?” She said, sitting forward. “I mean, what do you _like?_ What do you do?”

“I…” I hesitated. “I work and do as I’m told to do. I’m not allowed hobbies or free time except in very brief slivers such as this. I like the viola. I play it sometimes, or the piano. For council events, of course. I often track down—”

My breath hitched.

“Rogues.” I whispered, my eyes darkening.

Sarah didn’t seem taken aback, though, as if she already knew. “So you’re only what you’re told to do?”

“Of course.” I replied.

Sarah’s face seemed to become saddened by my response. “Have you ever thought of being more?”

“I am already a lot.” I reminded her. “I’m the prince.”

“Do you really think they value you?” Sarah snapped at me. “They value us all the same- which is like a rich person values a dime. They have so many of us that they don’t respect any. They could replace you in less than a day. Following them only means that your death will take longer, but they get bored of us eventually. Not even you will be important to them forever.. We live to serve these _assholes_ \- just to live another day. When I ask if you want to be more, I ask if you want to be more, individually. Do you want to be as whole as you should be? Do you want to do whatever you please? Or do you want to continue letting a veil tie around your eyes?”

I couldn’t respond.

She leaned forward. “I know what they do to you, Jesse.”

Air caught in my throat, and I forced myself to turn away.

Deep down, I knew she was right. I’ve known how much they cared about me since forever, I realize, but it had never reached my consious thought. It had never hit me like it did in this moment. And yet, still, I kept a stone cold face.

“I could never be a rogue like you.” I whispered, but there was pain in that sentence.

 

The day they came for her was the worst of all days.

Exactly one year after meeting her for the first time. October fourth. We were in a field when we heard people running towards us. We were in a field when we heard the _shouting._

I told her to hide and she did.

They didn’t find me, but they found _her._ I stood only a few feet away.

Mirabella was there, with 4 gears as white as polished moonstone. They must work for Crystal, I thought.

“Congratulations on finding this rogue, Jesse.” Mirabella cooed, beaming, and I smiled back, but it was forced. One of the gears stepped forward, kicking Sarah down to her knees. She wailed softly, tearing up before looking straight at me. Her pink eyes were darkened to a muddy concoction of colors with her tears.

“Help me.” She whispered.

But I didn’t move.

Mirabella would have me killed. I would have had to run and join the rogues. I would have to stay up at night wondering if they found me. I would die.

I blinked, slowly so tears could roll off my cheek, before wiping them away. I think she realized what it meant, because her face seemed to soften with understanding. She knew I was letting her die.

Gently, she tucked her hand down her shirt, near her breast, before pulling out what looked like a necklace.

As hard as she could, she threw it at me, landing before my feet. None of the other clockhands seemed to care, approaching her with a long, slender knife I knew must have been made by Pierce himself. Bending down to pick the necklace up,I close my hands around it; a skeleton key on a chain.

Before I could look up, a steady shriek accompanied by a slice of metal made me sob as I clutched the key desperately in my hands.

 

I still don’t know what the key is for.


End file.
